Close Call
by William de Worde
Summary: Elizabeth wants to 'thank' her savior. DeWitt is more than okay with the idea. Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately) they are interrupted by someone who is decidedly not happy about their coupling. [Heavy spoilers- watch out if you haven't finished the game]


**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Elizabeth wants to 'thank' her savior. DeWitt is more than okay with the idea. Unfortunately (or maybe _fortunately_...) they are interrupted by someone who is decidedly not happy about their coupling. [Heavy spoilers- watch out if you haven't finished the game]

* * *

"Booker, catch!"

He turned automatically at the sound of her voice, reaching out a hand to catch the ammunition that had been thrown at him. "Much obilged!" Booker shouted, reloading his empty pistol as he took cover behind a nearby stack of crates. Damn, that had been close. Too close than he would have liked, under the circumstances.

There were too many policemen for him to take on at once. He needed to distract them somehow, and pick them off, one by one.

Booker activated his Bucking Bronco vigor with a twitch of his hand and sent the men flying into the air, suspended by an invisible force. He grinned, aimed his pistol, and fired, ignoring their screams with practiced nonchalance.

Easier than shooting fish in a barrel.

The men's bodies thudded to the ground, and Booker made a mental note to search their bodies afterwards. Every bit of ammunition and food mattered in this insane hellhole of a city. But he had been sure there was another one. Where the hell did he go?

"Booker!"

He spun around at Elizabeth's scream, and his eyes widened at the looming figure behind her. "Get down!" Booker roared, bringing his gun up in one fluid movement. "Get _down_!"

The girl dropped to the ground with a yelp, leaving the remaining policeman an easy target.

Booker DeWitt had always been a good shot. One pull of the trigger tore the man's head apart, showering his surroundings with skull fragments and brain matter. His headless torso fell to the ground with a thump.

He ran over to the girl, wincing at the blood and gore that splattered her clothing. "Shit," He breathed, "Sorry 'bout that. Any of that belong to you?"

"N-No." She answered unsteadily, "I'm alright. I was just a bit too close when you- when you-"

"Right, okay." He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed the girl unharmed for his debt to repaid, but there was also something more than that. Against his will, Booker had gotten attached to the girl; she meant more to him than just a package to be delivered.

He wasn't really sure why- perhaps because of her innocent nature- he supposed fifteen years of being locked up in a tower would do that to a person- or maybe due to her uncanny resemblance to his long deceased wife.

Shit. She was _twenty_. Hell, he was old enough to be her _father_. Booker grimaced and pushed his thoughts out of his mind. This wasn't a time for that.

"Let's get the hell out of here." He told her, "We made enough of a ruckus to get people interested, and I ain't got the ammo to take on anymore of them. Besides, we gotta get you cleaned up."

Elizabeth nodded, still looking rather shell-shocked. Well, he couldn't blame her. The girl didn't usually find herself in the middle of actual combat. It must have scared the hell out of her to see someone's head getting blown off just a foot away.

* * *

"Hey, Booker?"

He turned around, one eyebrow raised. "...Yeah? What's wrong, Elizabeth?"

"No, nothing's wrong, it's just..." She looked at him bashfully. "I wanted to thank you. For today. You saved my life."

"Aw, that?" Booker grinned. "Don't worry 'bout it. Hell, you've probably saved _my_ life half a dozen times with your luck for finding med kits and ammo."_  
_

She smiled at that, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. Elizabeth had taken off her bloodstained shirt, leaving her rather exposed in only a skimpy corset. He looked away hurriedly.

"Maybe, but... I really mean it. If it wasn't for you... I would still be stuck in that prison, with Songbird as my only company." Elizabeth crawled closer to him. "You know, you're the first person I've seen in fifteen years. Real person, I mean. Not like those pictures of Comstock in my books."

"Heh, really?" He smiled uncomfortably.

"Yes." She said, and kissed him on the cheek. Elizabeth pulled back slowly, and Booker stared at her in shock.

"The hell?"

"You... You're also the first person I've touched since then." She frowned. "What's wrong? Don't you like it? I read a lot of books about it, but I've never tried it in real life."

"Yes- No!" And damn, was it just his imagination, or was his pants getting tighter around the crotch region? "I mean, yes, I liked it, but we shouldn't do this Elizabeth. Hell, I'm thirty seven. I'm seventeen years older than you."

"Is that a problem?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Ye- no! It's just- don't you rather want someone closer to your own age?" He tried to keep his gaze focused on Elizabeth's face, but he kept finding himself looking down at her admittedly ample assets.

"No." Elizabeth decided. "I want _you_, Booker." She leaned forward again, untying his tie with deft fingers and unbuttoning his shirt buttons with ease. "Don't you like me?"

"Of course, I like you, but-" He groaned loudly. "Shit- you... you really want to do this? Now? With _me_?"

She smiled. "Of course."

He reached out with his hand and stroked her side tentatively, eliciting a sensual moan. Elizabeth bent forward, giving him a spectacular view, if he may say so himself, and met his lips into a passionate kiss.

And that was when he heard a familiar ripping noise somewhere in front of him. He knew that sound, though he had previously heard it only in the heat of battle, mixed in with the sounds of agonizing screams and gunfire.

That was the sound of an opening tear. But only Elizabeth had the ability to open those dimensional tears, and the girl was... otherwise occupied, so how-? He drew back from the kiss, and Elizabeth made a small sound of confusion.

"Stay here, sweetie. Daddy's going to go take a look, but don't follow me, alright, Anna?" He heard someone say in an incredibly familiar voice. "That's my girl." The sound of a few footsteps, then a sudden, horrified pause. "Oh, god."

Booker nudged Elizabeth aside to get a better view of whoever the hell came through the tear and- "The _fuck_?" He yelped, scrambling to his feet and grabbing for his pistol. "_Comstock_?"

The man certainly looked like it- he had the facial structure for it, at least. But his hair wasn't white, instead, it was mostly dark brown, with a few strands of white. His features weren't as wizened as the elderly self-proclaimed Prophet, but the resemblance was uncanny.

"You sick _fuck_." The man growled, and kicked his gun out of reach. He looked positively murderous. "What the hell do you think you're _doing_?"

Elizabeth got up unsteadily, eyes wide as she took in the new arrival. "Comstock? How did you-"

The man paled at the sight of her extremely exposed form. "Jesus Christ." He cursed, and took off his jacket. "Put this on, will you?" He held the well-worn jacket out to her, and she took it warily, slipping it on with a look of confusion in her eyes.

"Don't get your weapon. I'm not Comstock." The man said bluntly, turning back to Booker.

"Oh yeah, huh? And I'm just supposed to take you on your word?" Booker snarled, "Elizabeth, get away from him."

"I'm not going to hurt her." Comstock said exasperatedly. "You, on the other hand, I'm still not sure. Look, if I was really Comstock, wouldn't I be trying to kill you by now?"

The man had a point. "So if you aren't Comstock, who _are_ you?"

"I'm Booker DeWitt." The man said, "From another dimension. You understand A-Elizabeth's powers by now, right?"

"You're-" Booker looked closer. Upon second look... yes, he can see some resemblance between himself and the newcomer. "...Right." But that raised more questions than answers. "You're from another dimension? How did you get here? Where's Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth isn't with me." DeWitt said. "This dimensional tear was opened up by someone else."

"Wait, you're Booker?" Elizabeth asked from where she stood nearby. "But you look just like-"

"There's a reason for that." The alternate him said, sounding oddly amused. "But you two will find out in the future. That's not the issue at hand. _That_ would be-" He turned to Booker, a hard look in his eyes. "What do you think you're doing, getting intimate with her?"

He stared back, jaw agape. Thankfully, Elizabeth did the talking for him. "What's wrong with that?" She retorted frostily. "I love him. It's my choice."

"You _love_ him." DeWitt looked horrified and amused at the same time. "Of _course _you do. Look, take my advice. Don't do something you will regret."

"The hell does that mean?" Booker managed, "She's younger than me, that's all."

"She's _younger_ than you." The alternate repeated, "Trust me, age isn't the problem here."

"Then what is?"

"I can't tell you." The man said.

He was about to retort angrily- Booker DeWitt made his own decisions, he didn't need some crackpot alternate version of himself to do it for him- when a rather familiar looking girl walked out of the gaping dimensional tear the alternate him had come from.

She stared at him with piercing blue eyes. "Daddy?" The girl asked the alternate him, "Who's that man, and why does he look so much like you?"

DeWitt sighed. "Anna, I told you to stay there."

He had a daughter? Wait... "Anna?" He gasped, "Anna DeWitt?"

Booker DeWitt remembered his daughter- especially the night on which he made the fateful decision to sell her in order to repay his own massive debts. He had agonized over that mistake, had spent countless nights dreaming of other choices he could have made so he could still have his daughter... but now that he thought about her, there was something strange about his memories. Who, exactly, had he traded Anna to?

The girl smiled, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Yep!" She said cheerfully, "That's my name. Who are you?"

Elizabeth stared at the small girl. "Anna..." She said, thinking, "That was my mother's name."

"Hey!" Anna yelped, "That's weird, Anna is my momma's name too!"

He remembered now. He had named his daughter after his wife, who had died in childbirth.

Booker looked from Anna to Elizabeth, eyes widening. They were identical in everything other than their age. Alternate dimensions... and that alternate version of him had reacted incredibly badly to his relationship with Elizabeth...

"No way. No _fucking_ way." He said, still staring at the two. "Please tell me that this is a horrible joke. Elizabeth, you're-?"

"What?" She said, the exact same time as Anna proclaimed, "Wow! Elizabeth's my middle name!"

Booker turned to the alternate version of him with horrified eyes. "You don't mean-"

"I'm afraid so."

He paled, now seeing the previous event through a horrible new perspective. He had almost had sex with Elizabeth. Elizabeth was, somehow, Anna DeWitt. That meant...

"Jesus _Christ,_" said Booker DeWitt.

* * *

The dimensional tear had started flickering just moments after, and the pair from the alternate dimension had made their way back, Anna pestering her father with questions all the way.

Booker and Elizabeth sat there for a while, staring dumbly at the place the tear had been.

"I still don't understand," She said finally, "What the other you was talking about. And who was that little girl?"

"Trust me." Booker said. "You don't want to know."

* * *

**A/N: In response to all those unfortunate Booker/Elizabeth fics written before the authors finished the game. Accidental incest, woohoo! Oedipus would be proud.**

**Timeline errors everywhere, but this is just for fun. Though the dimensional intruders are from the post-credits world.**

**Disclaimer: Not meant to offend, lol. If you ship Booker/Elizabeth- hell, even _not_ in an AU where they're not father/daughter- that's perfectly fine. I personally don't, just because I prefer a father/daughter relationship. So yeah, sorry if I sounded superior or something.**


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